Tag: Pisco earthquake

 APRIL 19, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON

My preferred route to recovering from my latest bout of Pisco belly continued to be fasting rather than laying around. My next priority was spending time with my friend, Cris and succumbing to sickness would never do. He was finally free from the work that had held him up the first two days. We share a special bond that was cemented by our now dearly departed friend who first connected us. The same is true for our friend, Chela, making us a forever trio.

Cris had sent me an update while I was still in Tupac Amaru. This was after Felipe and I had finished lunch with Iris and her family and said our goodbyes. We thought we might be back to the district again, possibly the next day, but thank goodness we had done our loving hugs and see-you-laters to them then. A third day wasn’t in the cards so our lovingly extended visit had grown my gratitude even more. Leaving their house and walking towards the district square, I could pick up a publicly accessible Wi-Fi signal. It seemed to cover a small area but had a strong signal and this is where I had picked up Cris’ incoming update.

Thank goodness for Felipe. I don’t know that I would have additionally made it to the park after leaving Iris’s place, before we worked to get a collectivo back. I definitely had to sit down for a bit, before I could take that ride. I was dizzy from the sun and my new sickness. Still I was determined. I would make it back and meet up with Cris for the rest of the day. The original plan was to connect in Pisco’s Plaza de las Armas (the main square) but he was so kind. He would end up waiting downstairs in my hostel lobby, just a little later that day. This meant he was actually sitting sort of diagonal from Felipe who was sitting, resting downstairs after we returned. I was back upstairs, refreshing and working not to keep either of my friends waiting too long. Felipe was dozing when I returned. That made total sense. Our morning and afternoon had been fruitful with bustling activity that was also delicately peaceful.

My intention had been not to keep my latest visitor and old-time friend waiting at all but I really did need to take some extra time because of the looming stomach issues. Like Felipe, Cris looked the same to me. I had to think and mention how we were all just aging like fine wine. I introduced the two of them and we walked out together. We invited Felipe along on our journey (our program) but he mentioned needing to meet up with a friend. He parted ways with us outside and us two, Cris and I, were just primarily in awe of the passage of time and the surrealness that we friends were back here together again.

We are close in age and have a lot in common. We would spend the next several hours walking, chatting and reviewing the city of Pisco. We started at our dear friend’s resting place. It was so hard to believe that he wouldn’t be walking about with us this time. He would have been laughing, teasing and endlessly making sure we were fed at his home with his wife and 2 boys. Cris and I reflected in the cemetery. We stood there, reminiscing, loving, thinking. I felt a peace and a pain. He had been such an integral help to all the volunteers and treated my roommate (at the time) and me to some additional special times. This is family. Cris and I know this, and we decided that he is still here. Energy never disappears, only transforms.

We walked to the new mall area, where I was treated to his favorite ice cream, flavored lucuma, and I wondered if my dessert taste buds existed before this. We sat chatting, savoring and then walked back towards the main square.  We would then visit the newly refinished Malecón (waterfront) but first I needed to make a pit stop at the hostel, because as I noted, I am sick. I am very happy but my body knows it is still not ok. I was teasing Cris along the way because it seemed like someone knew him at every turn and knowing now that he is a huge Beyoncé fan, I teased him that he is the one that is actually a pop star. Then I thought, wait, and posed the question whether he would actually be her or Jay Z. He confirmed that it would be the both of them, combined.

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Clever that my illness which had momentarily brought me back to my hostel, would put us back outside just in time to unexpectedly see our friend Chela walking up the street towards us. It’s a small world, but life is also more magical than coincidental. She was able to join us as we headed towards the water. We stopped at a store along the way, but I filled her in that I shouldn’t and couldn’t be ingesting anything more that day. It was the safest bet. We reached the beach. The boardwalk was the only mainstay of my time there. Cris confirmed this when I wondered out loud and he cautioned me to watch my step. There were gaps in the wood that you could step into, some quite large. The other walkers were enjoying but minding their steps just the same. We looked for a convenient spot to step off. The boardwalk extended over the ground and then further over the water. There were no step like structures off the sides but we watched as a young guy stepped down into a fallen broken side that dipped back to the land. It was both hard wood and reed like. It was perfect. Cris went first and we all had to jump a little to get back to the flat surface. He held his arms up in case we needed a hand down, but we made it smoothly.

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They had built so much commercial activity out here now. My! I can only imagine what more interesting moments that us volunteers could have cooked up here had all of this been in place 9 or so years ago. We had entertainment, both existing and self-produced, at the time, but having this and the mall area would have opened up all kinds of new possibilities.

The three of us chatted back towards the square. We came upon the large elevated Pisco sign as the night enveloped us. Chela would depart from here, right after we said our goodbyes and took our last group pictures for now. Cris walked me back to my door. How sweet it is to be taken from point A all around back to point A again. My healthcare-app pedometer put me at well over 15,000 lovely steps that day.

I spent the next day and a half not eating (still being considerably sick) and wrapping up tasks. I had one outstanding translation assignment that was to be due shortly. I would submit it from Pisco, making me officially a digital nomad in my mind (though I still have a full-time day job).

Felipe and I had actually been invited back to Villa Tupac Amaru for a third day for the community celebration, but I realized that I really needed the day to let myself continue healing while I simultaneously took care of business. One special errand was for another local friend who I only got to see a little and who wasn’t doing so well. I also needed to organize my possessions, both old and new, and finally, I wanted to pick up some quality Pisco liquor to bring back to my dear friend in the DMV (DC/Maryland/Virginia). Cris had given me the name of two high-level brands. I recall that I had my first Pisco Sour when I lived in Pisco (per it being the city of its origin despite Chile’s protest) and I had my best Pisco Sours there. I wondered if they were made with Portón or Biondi.

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My last day was successful with task completion although sickness was still threatening to overtake me. There was the heat, the dizziness, and the lack of food (because I didn’t want to risk eating). Still I needed to persevere, and I had faith that I’d be normal again soon. At first, I felt like I wasn’t going to make it through the local bank line (I stepped out twice.) The standing for so long was getting the better of me but I kept thinking of this other local friend who was unlike the ones who had been treating me over the last few days. I made it through. Mission complete.

Though I hadn’t been able to see everyone, I thought how I had reconnected under the very eyes of some very dear friends. I had visited the former area of the Pisco Sin Fronteras house and walked by the doors of our former home. I had seen our spot when I wasn’t sure I would. I walked along much of the city, much of our old stomping grounds. I was here and there and feeling complete. A life full circle was reminding me more of my goals. I was finally there again when I knew there was no way I couldn’t be.

Pisco, Peru. I love you dearly. I hold you closely and I’ll see you later. You made me more of who I am and who I plan to be. Thank you, reader, for sharing it with me.

Returning to Pisco, Peru: Part 1                 Returning to Pisco, Peru: Part 2

Returning to Pisco, Peru: Part 3                 Returning to Pisco, Peru: Part 4

MARCH 31, 2019 BY CASSANDRA JOHNSON

I continued on with my mission the next day. I didn’t know if it would be completed but knew it was possible. The objective was to follow up on a fellow volunteer’s request to revisit a dear project of his and a dear family. The goal was easily placed upon my heart. At the same time, I came to remember that this was also coincidentally the family that had introduced me among their relatives as “sobrina de Obama”. The only problem was that I did not realize that I had the last name switched up on the first day, so Felipe and I initially embarked to the correct location with incorrect data. However, this allowed us the interesting experiences we had at the Vlla Tupac Amaru police station in addition to friending one of this district’s administrator. This was also the day I walked the second highest number of steps since I started noting them on my healthcare app.

My dear retired Felipe was true to his word when he said the program was mine to make. We found ourselves in the central area across from the police station once the collectivo driver dropped us off. We were also near one of many parks. We would eventually visit the one especially constructed for the community by a group of volunteers. I had been there twice during my time there, to see the park and the family. The family was indeed delightful and resilient.

Finding ourselves now across from the Tupac Amaru police station, I noticed that the gentleman standing outside of it was holding a rifle. I was tempted to have this be an addition to my photo gallery but was also thinking me aiming my camera phone at him and perhaps him aiming something else at me wasn’t ideal. He wasn’t standing outside for an extended period of time when we were there. We headed inside the station and Felipe broke the ice, set it up, giving my background about our volunteer group and the project. My Spanish was measured, charismatic and flawless with each officer as they shuffled us into their back office. They told me to make myself comfortable, pointing to a seat in the office to which they guided us. I sat. Felipe stood beside me. There was something to the militaristic feel of the moment that made me feel I needed to behave formally. Yet, what came across the most was their willingness to find an answer to the location of both the family and the park question. One by one, various officers would enter the office trying to recall the park or the name I had given them, which at this point was still incorrect. Some generally recalled the park that had been built by the Pisco Sin Fronteras volunteers. They nodded knowingly towards a distant memory.

(I would not discover the right name until I was back at my hostel later that night.) Here, we were encircled by 4 to 5 officers at a time. The gentleman that occupied the office sat diagonal, searching the database for us. The gentleman that ushered us in sat across from me now. The message of our purpose would get relayed to all the guys entering and exiting and I appreciate how considerately they would try to recall and find information. The Afro Peruvian ones would seem to do it with a familial nod. I’m glad everyone was nice, and I decided to continue going along with their substantial assistance for as long as it lasted, rather than call attention to the idea that I may be wasting their time. I’m getting wiser and learning that dismissing myself can be dismissive to others. We have to give help and we have to accept it. We are here for each other, in whatever form that may prove to take.

We thanked them and walked towards an area that was a good lead. So many steps taken that day. (My Rally healthcare pedometer app concurred.) We asked more details of a few people along the way and we had some increasing success. One such instance was when a family directed us to the district director, Maritza. (She and I are Facebook friends now and her tagline reads FULL OF LOVE – which is true.) As busy as she was, she threw herself into helping us find the family and the park. I tell you it will be wonderful what she can accomplish the next day when I actually have the correct name for her.

Maritza’s continued busyness: The next day she would be preparing for a huge community gathering, all about providing resources and improving the local conditions. She would personally be going to Pisco’s main square early in the morning to pick up groceries. She and her team would later be cutting up vegetables and preparing a large dinner to go along with the event. She said we could return to her office here in Tupac Amaru around 10:00 a.m. the next day. It had been late when we began this first day’s visit. Felipe had added something to the story of me doing something like a follow up interview, but I think the generosity was forthcoming enough with the recognition of me being a former PSF volunteer. Still it was endearing, when I’d hear him chime in and add something on my behalf.

We returned not promptly the next day. I knew it was unusual for Felipe to be running late so I walked along the plaza not far from my hostel, sending Maritza a message that we were still on our way. I knew very strongly that she would be the key to me finding the family that wasn’t really missing. Plus, I now had more information for her. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner, but the Iris we sought had to be a Facebook connection to my friend who had made the request. She was. He had just made a minor typo in the last name he had sent me. My choices were reduced to two people now and I was confident that Maritza would be a big help. When she failed to recognize the mistaken Facebook contacts I had shown her the day before, it was actually a reassurance that she was truly familiar with who did and didn’t live there. More specifically, the prior confusion came with me only having the right first name correct the day before and it had been 9 years too long for me to be certain if Iris in pictures was the same woman I had met just twice.

Martiza’s eyes immediately lit up with recognition when I showed her the new photos. She directed Felipe and I to Iris’s sister’s office and appealed to her to reach out to Iris’s children. She had given her the background information about me and my hope to reconnect. Her sister relayed this from her desk phone and Iris’ son and daughter excitedly came to retrieve us. They would ride back over with us in a tuk tuk to where they now lived with their mom, this sister and the extended family. We had located them! I was banking on this working out eventually if we asked enough questions. The children’s excitement mirrored ours. They were full of life, full of smiles.

I was imagining that Sam, who was a lead volunteer on this project, would be pleased. I was honored to say hi on his behalf and likewise I was personally thrilled to see the family I knew to tag me as sobrina de Obama.

There was actually an update from Sam’s visit about two years prior. It was dear. The children had been outspoken in their questions and ideas for him. From what I could see, they were equally energetic. They were mindful and well behaved as well. Before riding back over to their home, they had hugged us. We chatted a little. I asked about their new little hermanita and then, Vamos. We were soon in the main room with them and their mom, Iris.

We pulled up and she was in a chair feeding and bonding with the newest little sibling, who happened to be just 9 days old. Mother and child seemed one instead of two. Our conversation was like being home, comfortable laced with humor (everything in Spanish). Relaxing. We caught up on lives ongoing, where were particular volunteers now, which ones were still a couple, who was married, etc. We laughed fondly of my back in the day intro to the family. I was touched she remembered. I had been there just twice, visiting and for the fundraising dinners. I was on several projects and a project manager for some time, but this was not one of mine. I was fortunate I got to meet them.

Felipe and I flew past several hours there. He now had a new connection in Villa Tupac Amaru, thanks to this visit. He quickly bonded with Iris’ older relatives. We had moved our conversation from the main room with just him, Iris and her children to outside where the older relatives and two teenage nephews were preparing lunch. The nephews were cutting up potatoes to be added in and later playing on their phones. We were now in a fortress while what made up the cooking area could be seen on the other side through the sheer covering that surrounded us. We sat near the dining table and it felt like we were a part of the garden. We were encircled by nature, chatting about all things under the sun. A pet cat played with the oldest but young daughter. She grabbed two mangoes for Felipe and I to take with us later on. Lunch was ready and in true Peruvian style, we were automatically included. The places at the table were counted out with us as additions. This was not even a second thought.

I now, unfortunately, had to come to terms with the fact that I was getting sick. I felt I could pretty much pinpoint the cause. I had made a very rookie mistake and let myself enjoy a little side salad during my lunch out on my second day in Pisco. It was a quality one, sitting there all small and unassuming, next to my pollo milanesa. I was even venturing off my now mostly vegetarian diet with the pollo, but this was rare. I had not done red meat for decades but still would have some chicken, fish, turkey and some other seafood. Yet, for the last year I wasn’t even doing chicken and turkey, and this was truly a preferential development to the taste, feel and love of delectable non-meat products. (I could honestly eat vegetables, veggie burgers, veggie chicken, biscuits plus all types of bread and dessert and I would be happy for the rest of my days).

Back with this salad as the culprit: It had avocado, tomato, lettuce, cucumber and a tasty sauce. It was little next to my chicken and rice and potatoes. It occurs to me the water the rice was cooked in could have also been the offender. It could have either been that the salad was washed in regular water or the rice water wasn’t boiled enough. It is just that you simply do not partake of it directly from the plumbing. You take a chance because the food is wonderful, and food is necessary, and it could have been okay. Fortunately, there are massive amounts of bottle water sold everywhere as well but you are not always in control of the source, prep or end product. I know that living there, we could also get careless in our own precautions. That was my story at least one of the three times I had Pisco belly 9 years ago. I joked with friends that I guess I was trying to relive most everything this time around and so I stayed sick for my last couple of days in Pisco.

Being sick was not at all something that I was going to let interfere with my fun and happiness. It may have been slowing me down and periodically sitting me down from bench to bench, but I was planning on powering through. I felt, from experience, that food would exacerbate the problem, so I was left with fasting and eventually introducing some light food back into my diet a day later, a day after the stomach issues first began. I had every intention of completing my final objectives.

Returning to Pisco, Peru: Conclusion

Continuing Soon